Beat of a Treasure
by Idlesana
Summary: For saving the lives of his friends, Bilbo gets their eternal gratitude. For trying to save his own, he gets the immortal curiosity of a dragon. A Hobbit/Sherlock crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Hobbit(book or movie) or the BBC's TV series of Sherlock Holmes.

**A/N:** What are you doing here, you weirdo? Reading Hobbit/Dragon fiction, pfft. No, but seriously, why have I got the feeling that I ship the weirdest things? ;u;

Anyway, if you read this please keep in mind that I expect you to have read Hobbit, watched the first movie as well as seen BBC's Sherlock series. There. If you haven't (wtfwhyhaven'tyou?) then I take no responsibility if you fail to understand things or spoil yourself.

Aside from that, I hope you enjoy the ride. :)

* * *

However unexpected, the matter between Bilbo Baggins and his thirteen dwarf friends was not that complicated an affair. They don't expect much of him the first time they meet, and even Bilbo himself does not prepare to face any less than a complete disaster when he decides to join them. Yet they all find themselves surprised, because while the hobbit might not be quick to draw his sword to fight, his quick thinking is more than capable of getting them out of the need to do so in the first place. Once, twice, thrice Bilbo saves the skins of his companions, and they in turn bow down to him in promise to be forever at his service with their ever growing beards.

And that is the gist of it, of _anything _in life, really. You save a life and gain gratitude for it whether you like it or not.

The matter with the dragon, however, is another thing entirely. They are at the end of their journey when Bilbo meets the notorious Smaug that has made it its right to dwell in the mountain which his friends want to reclaim. He sees it sleeping among all of its gold and silver and precious stones, looking like it won't notice a thing, and in a bout of arrogance Bilbo has the idea to steal a piece of its treasure.

He has signed up to be a burglar, after all.

A great two-handled cup, as well as the right to brag about it to the dwarves, is his price for endangering his life. A worthwhile treasure if one wanted to live in comfort for most of their lives. A small gain when the wrath of Smaug resonates through the mountain, spreading dread to their bones and fear in their eyes.

And curse them dwarves for accepting his proposal to sneak back into the dragon's quarters to see what it was on about like it was brilliant an idea! It should be against his nature, against all the rules of self-preservation to near a dragon willingly –with or without a magic ring.

But in Bilbo goes, and this time, Smaug meets him with wakefulness.

"I smell you, thief," it says to him, its voice a low grumble that makes the stone walls of its lair shudder. "I feel your air and hear your breath. Come on in, help yourself."

And Bilbo _does_ help himself. In fact, he does his _very_ _best_ to help himself out of this mess and to save his own skin for a change. And that is the difference between his association with the dwarves and this monstrous creature.

For saving the lives of Thorin and his company he got a vastness of gratitude. For saving his own life he gets the dragon's immortal curiosity.

"I am Ringwinner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider," Bilbo finishes his list of suitable titles he had gathered along the way.

"Interesting things to be called, but pray tell, what is your _actual_ name," the dragon murmurs in impatience. "No, never mind the irrelevance of a name, what _are_ you?"

"Nothing compared to you," Bilbo answers, making the dragon both sated and annoyed.

"You reek of dwarf, but that is not what you are," Smaug says after a while, making Bilbo's heart skip a beat at the thought of his friends' intrusion of the mountain being found out by this creature. "The Barrel-rider who is neither an elf nor a human. Fascinating."

"Well deducted." The sarcasm in his voice is involuntary, and for a moment Bilbo is ready to face a fiery death, but Smaug seems overly pleased instead.

"Of course! I have categorized the smells of many a creature in my memory. Yours however I have never come by," the dragon says, sniffing the air in a manner of superiority. "Now show yourself, little thief, lest you want me to torch you and your thirteen dwarf friends."

Now, Bilbo could have chosen to hare off in the hopes to outrun fire and wrath, but he thinks of his friends and does not want to lead ruin to them if he can help it. Smaug has already had every opportunity to take his life, but it hasn't, and Bilbo has plenty of words left to perhaps talk himself out of this. So he takes off his ring of invisibility, and steps into the range of the dragon's sight.

Only to be laughed at. "And out to the open he comes! Oh, look at you tiny thing, not bright at all to reveal yourself to me."

"I did not see a choice when a dragon mentioned something about setting me on _fire_," Bilbo growls, displeased all over.

"But there is always a choice; it's what makes things interesting. So many choices!" The dragon almost rejoices, making Bilbo's skin crawl with the manic look in its eyes. "And still I haven't got a clue what you are. Come down from there, I must examine you from closer."

"You can hardly expect me to come closer willingly after you just laughed at my foolishness for having revealed myself to you," Bilbo points out dryly, still a bit miffed at being laughed at by a giant reptile.

"Is it my size you are afraid of?" Smaug questions almost innocently. "Because I can become smaller to lull you into a false sense of security if that would make you near me more willingly."

Bilbo only stares for a while. "That's not possible, is it?"

"What?" The dragon's giant eyes narrow with thinning patience, its heavy intakes of breathe grumbling in its throat.

"Things changing their shapes or sizes. It's not possible."

"You infuriating little-! Fine then, it is not my preferred form because it makes me look something akin to you, but I'll show you, if not to kill your disbelieves, then to fit into that tiny tunnel of yours to kill all of you little mice that hide there."

With that, the dragon starts to change shape, the glow of its fire waning as it shrinks out of sight and into the growing darkness. Soon there's nothing left to see or to hear, as even the breathing that had filled the room before disappears.

Bilbo waits quietly, afraid to make a sound other than the rapid beat of his heart which he cannot halt for obvious reasons. Then he spots a breath of fire in the distance, seeing it catch something that starts to burn and bring light to its surroundings.

"Come to me, thief," comes a voice from the darkness, still rich and deep though not as heavy as before. "Or I shall come to you."

Hearing the amused threat made Bilbo's feet move almost without his consent, and he stumbles in the dark, falling down, stepping on and bumping into all sorts of unforgiving objects. "Just hold on a minute," he mumbles more to himself that he does to the dragon, drawing out his sword as he approaches the fire.

On top of a mountain of gold he finds the creature, long abandoned torches which it had lit to help Bilbo find his way illuminating enough for the hobbit to see that it was no more a dragon that greeted him, but rather a dragon who attempted to look like a human.

It has a dark mop of curls for hair, and aside from its high cheekbones and a piercing gaze, Bilbo could not label its face unusual. But it also has huge, heavy wings on its back that make the dragon fight for its balance every time it moves them in this unused form. It has its tail also, and a body that is alive with indecision, shifting and reshaping, either pale, porcelain skin or a fiery red of the dragon's scales.

There's one place that doesn't change, though. On the left side of its breast remains a patch of human skin that stays as it is, vulnerable and just above its beating heart.

Bilbo swallows and does not let his eyes linger.

"Well now," the dragon says, reaching its hand to touch Bilbo in some way. Bilbo flinches and clutches his sword a little tighter.

"You are still so small even when I went through the trouble of shrinking myself," Smaug laughs, retreating its hand without having its touch land. "Do you honestly think you can hurt me with that thing of yours?"

Bilbo looks from his sword to the smirking dragon and scowls despite his situation.

"It gives me courage and I need every bit I can get right now." He says, lowering his weapon despite his words. Because Smaug is right, isn't it? Folk like him would ever have what it takes to slay a dragon.

"And why would you be in need of courage? Does my form not comfort you?" Smaug continues with its questions, its voice growing tones of amusement and curiosity.

"You may be smaller in size, but it does not mean your ways to kill me have grown any lesser," replies Bilbo, eyes every now and then taking a look at the creature's chest to make sure it remained a weakness.

"Not entirely true," comes a laugh. "I now cannot step on you or eat you whole, even though you are such a small... whatever you are. Come now, you _must_ tell me what you are."

"I am what I am," Bilbo says and doesn't think it wise to reply with anything more informative.

"_Annoying_ is what you are. Maybe I ought to just kill you, hmm?"

It is not something Bilbo would agree with, getting killed just because he managed to annoy a dragon. So he does what he does rather well, and thinks as fast as he can.

"But then you would never know what I am," he blurts out. "You are so proud of your collection of scents yet you would not be able to put a name on the one that stole a piece of your treasure."

Smaug narrows its eyes at his words, but doesn't say anything. It shifts and it breathes, humane expressions dancing on its face like the scales and skin do on its body. It looks angered, it looks like it doesn't care, then there's boredom and finally just the need to know.

"Fine then, you have my curiosity," the dragon growls, a smirk quick to grow on its face just afterwards. "You may return to your dwarf friends. Though do tell them to camp outside my mountain. I don't like the reek of them."

Bilbo stares and blinks. "You- you are just going to let me go?"

"Indeed I am."

"Just like that?" He asks for confirmation, looking over his shoulders as if there would be a crowd ready to laugh at his naivety.

"Yes," says the dragon, settling to lie on its belly among all of its gold.

"Right then," Bilbo hesitates, taking backward steps until he feels the riches beneath his feet start giving away and falling towards the ground. "I'll just go now, shall I?"

"I will see you later, little thief," a supposed farewell follows him down the golden pile, and Bilbo turns to look back even though it was the last thing he thought he ought to do.

"See me later? You expect me to come _back_?" He asks with a little desperate laugh.

"Oh, don't be dull, Barrel-rider. _Of course_ you will return, you are here for my treasure, after all."

"I might give up on that," Bilbo says up to the pile where he can see nothing but the waning light of the torches. "I might run away."

"And I might enjoy the chase," says the dragon, to which Bilbo finds no reply other than to leave back the way he came from.

* * *

The dwarves don't take the news he brings very well. Granted, Bilbo doesn't go into much detail about the conversation held, only telling that were they to run, there would be chase, and were they to attack, they would most likely end up beaten and eaten.

They do, however, pay a keen interest when Bilbo tells them about the possible weakness in armour on the left of the dragon's breast. The birds around them listen well and fly away when the dwarves pat Bilbo on the back and encourage him to go spy on the dragon more.

"Running would be foolish, not that we'd ever choose to do so having come so far," Bofur smiles to him. "So best we can do now is to gather as much information on it as possible. And you my friend have proven to be excellent at just that!"

Everyone but Bilbo agrees with this, and so there is little else to do but to return into the dragon's lair.

* * *

"Welcome back, thief," Smaug says smugly, still lying on its belly on the exact same spot even though Bilbo had managed to put off his return for two days.

"I half expected to find a dragon here," Bilbo says as a greeting, taking a seat somewhere near the creature, forgetting pleasantries while still being annoyed because of the dwarfs.

"It takes an effort to change shapes," drawls the dragon lazily. "An effort which I see no reason to make."

"Right." Bilbo agrees. "So what shall we talk about today? The weather, perhaps?"

"Weather is dull; it has no effect on me. But I would have you tell me your reasons for being here."

And the dragon turns its body so that it would be easier for it to stare at Bilbo. "I suppose they promised you a share of the gold, but how are you to take it home, I wonder? You have one, a home, is that not right? So why follow some dwarves who have not got one into this certain death that you have now arranged for yourself? Where is there a gain in that?"

"There is no gain," says Bilbo quietly. "No gain other than over thirteen friendships and stories to tell."

"And what are those friendships and stories worth when you die for nothing?"

"A lot more than all of your gold when you die alone!" Bilbo snaps, not liking how his every uncertainty is being spoken out loud.

The dragon stares and stares, wonder growing on its features as it props itself to lean on its elbows.

"Are you that selfless?" It asks like it's the first time it _sees_ Bilbo. "Are you what they call _golden hearted_?"

"No," Bilbo denies, growing a bit uneasy by the sudden wonderment. "I am a burglar."

"How many chances did you have to walk away? And how many of those did you fail to take even while knowing that there is nothing for you at the end of this journey? No, you are here because valour and loyalty would not let you be anywhere else. What a treasure for me to have!"

With that Smaug is on its feet, jumping towards Bilbo and trapping his tiny body underneath its resemblance of a human form. Bilbo doesn't know which hurts more, the dragon's iron grip on his arms or the precious metals pressing against his back, but it all seems so irrelevant when Smaug has an uncontrollable look of greed in its eyes and the back of its throat glows like an oncoming flame.

"Gold with a beat of its own! I want it! Show me your heart!"

And Bilbo tries his best to struggle when there's a clawed hand on his chest, ready to tear him apart.

"I can't show you my heart! That would kill me and you should know better than anyone that there is nothing but blood and gore when you rip someone to pieces!"

He doesn't tell the dragon that the treasure it yearns is just a figure of speech, even amidst all of his panic, for surely every interest he can rouse in Smaug lengthens his lifespan.

Smaug hesitates, seems to gather its wits and doesn't stop Bilbo when he scrambles away from under it. They stare at each other, one terrified and other still in a daze from having its nature take over it. And in both of their minds lingers forming plans concerning the other's heart.

"Then how am I supposed to have it if not by taking it?" The dragon asks.

"It's not yours to take but mine to give to whom I will," Bilbo answers, quickly continuing when he sees Smaug open its mouth to say something to that. "And don't think for a second that I'd choose to give it to you, no matter what ever threats or bribery you'd think of. That's not how it works."

For being denied its heart's desire, Smaug looks infuriated. The fire burning at the back of its throat turns into thick, black smoke that comes from out of its mouth as it glares at Bilbo through hateful eyes. Then it turns its back to the hobbit, slumps heavily down on its gold and doesn't move from there.

"You may go now," it dismisses Bilbo with a moody tone.

And Bilbo doesn't need to be told twice as he's already going, turning back only when he has slid down far enough to feel the stone ground underneath his feet.

"Do you expect me to come back again?" He asks, but receives no answer.

So to the dwarves he returns.

* * *

It is beyond obvious that they have reached an impasse. The dwarves are too set on their quest to away from the mountain, yet not brave enough to challenge its resident. Their thinning supply of food makes their time limited, though, and it becomes even more so when the crows bring news of the restlessness of the humans down by the lake as well as the movements of an army of goblins.

Thorin sends out a word asking for an army of his own kin, to which the reply is exactly what the dwarf wants to hear.

All the while Bilbo performs his duty by spending his days surrounded by darkness. The route to the particular pile of riches becomes familiar to him, because Smaug never seems to move. Every time Bilbo goes to it, it lies where he left it, always half asleep but never off guard.

And they talk about mundane things in order to prolong the inevitable, riddling each other and sharing their knowledge of the world. The dragon has a liking to metal, ash and death, while Bilbo prefers to go on about things that grow, Old Toby and life.

Those are not bad memories to look back on when he's older, Bilbo thinks. He doesn't think many exist who can proclaim having conversed with a dragon in such a casual manner. But at the same time, he's growing more fearful, because it's not right, not in any natural sense. His concern is that this is the false lull of security the dragon had promised him. That he is nothing but an insect humouring a bored reptile.

He thinks this even while being unable to keep his hand from touching the dragon's hair softly, letting the curls of it wrap themselves around his fingers while Smaug asks him, "Do you wish to tame me, Master Luckwearer?" while not moving a muscle to stop him, or even opening its eyelids to peer at him with any sort of resentment.

And, "Only your hair," is what Bilbo says to it, missing the opportunity to stick something sharp into the heart of Smaug while it lies there, content.

Maybe both of them were starting to get a bit delusional, staying underneath the mountain where time seemed to stay still while the world outside kept on moving.

"I don't know what to do," Bilbo confesses to the dragon one day in an attempt to speak over the loudest debater of the moment: his growling stomach.

"About what?" It asks as if already bored with the subject.

"War is brewing," he says, eyes distant as he thinks of the armies gathering on the roots of the mountain. "And I'm no warrior. This might actually be the last time I wish to be back at home."

He smiles sadly at Smaug who observes him from the corner of its eye, listening but not giving much care.

"A war over what?" Smaug wonders absently.

And Bilbo considers this, swallowing thickly. The dragon is no fool and should be very aware of the motivation for any army to march in the vicinity of its mountain. But it waits for Bilbo's answer, and it makes the hobbit feel like it's in his power to set the inevitable into motion.

"For the land and the right to call it theirs," Bilbo says, pausing before he continues. "Along with the trees and the lake and this mountain…"

"You may say it, burglar," says the dragon unconcerned. "They are coming for my gold."

"Ultimately, yes," Bilbo nods, feeling all sorts of nervous.

"No," Smaug grins lazily as it raises itself to a sitting position, its tail whipping itself against the treasure underneath them as the sounds of the first war drums start to echo in the deep caverns. "They do not come to fight a war against my rule or the right for my gold. They come to get slaughtered."

* * *

Bilbo runs as fast as he can. He's surrounded by absolute darkness, still, but the route has become very familiar to him by now, and the closer he gets to the secret entrance, the brighter his sword starts to shine and aid him in navigation. He never makes it to the entrance, not quite, because the dwarves meet him halfway.

"We saw Smaug take wind under its wings," Thorin says, out of breath and a bit unsettled. "What is going on?"

"It's defending the mountain from the gathering armies," Bilbo answers, pointedly speaking of defence rather than slaughter. "What are _we_ to do?"

There's a moment of fear shared between all who don't have the mind of Thorin. They fear that they are about to be ordered into battle against goblins and men and elves and a dragon. The help Thorin had pleaded for had not yet arrived, and so they would have no strong foothold on the oncoming war.

But the mind of Thorin Oakenshield is set on another perspective entirely.

"We will take this mountain as ours now that the beast is gone," he declares firmly. "We will reclaim our halls and protect them from the unwelcomed."

"What about the war?" Asks Ori, hesitant but not unwilling to follow.

Thorin is already on his way deeper into the mountain when he says the final word. "Let them kill each other and we'll fight whoever there is left to fight."

It is a good plan, the best one their situation could possibly let them have.

But Bilbo doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all.

* * *

There is a sickness growing in Thorin's eyes. The more he sees of the piles of riches laid down on the magnificent halls which his fathers had built, the more detached he seems to become from the reality of the present.

His companions aren't doing much better, rejoicing as if this is the end of their journey and nothing in the world stood in their way anymore.

"The Arkenstone! Find the Heart of the Mountain!" Thorin commands, his movements becoming hectic as he lusts for the treasure of treasures. And so they search while stuffing every bag and pocket full of riches.

Bilbo is the one who finds it. There's no mistaking the jewel in his hands for anything less than what it is. He says nothing to the others, only wraps it in cloth and slips it into his pocket before he goes to talk to Thorin, still set on finding the Arkenstone and nothing else.

"You need to prepare to defend your mountain," Bilbo reminds the dwarf. "You still have to fight to keep all this. There's plenty of time to search afterwards."

Thorin agrees reluctantly and starts to give out orders. They head for the main entrance where they plan on building a solid defence from rock and stone. It is from there that Bilbo gets his first look at the dale below the mountain.

And there lies a sea of chaos, goblins and men and elves fighting amidst the fire that Smaug keeps breathing from the sky while clouds of arrows try to bring it down. The sight makes Bilbo feel nauseous, thinking that all of them fight to get the right to stand on the exact spot where his feet now touch the mountain. And he feels even more ill when there is the sound of a horn blowing in the distance, setting a light in Thorin's eyes as he and his companions cheer for the nearing army of dwarves, all of whom have been baptised in battle.

'_This is no place for a hobbit_,' Bilbo thinks desperately_. 'I have no place in this at all_.' He goes over in his head what chance of running away he would have and how much of a coward that would make him. And he wonders if it would do him any good to help the dwarves build up their defence and hope for the best in some small crevice inside the mountain.

But he stops to think altogether and runs out of breath when he forgets to inhale. For a bird had flown to a man and told him the weakness of Smaug the Terrible. And the man, though surprised he could understand the bird, took aim and shot his last, trusted arrow as Smaug flew over him. It hits its mark and Smaug screams excruciating howls of pain and trashes in the air as it tries to fly somewhere away where it can land without instantly being hacked to pieces by axes and swords and spears.

What Bilbo does next is insanity.

He disappears from out of sight with the aid of his ring (_cowardice_). He stumbles down the mountain and into a camp of men where he finds Gandalf, gives him the Arkenstone and tells him to use it against Thorin Oakenshield if it came down to that (_betrayal_). In the confusion he takes whatever necessary he can from the camp (_theft_).

And then he runs. Past fire and corpses and continuation of a war, never minding the shouts of Gandalf dying behind him.

He had never been in control of this madness, so why try now?

* * *

There is a clearing now where Smaug had hit the ground. Trees have fallen down under its weight, some are on fire and some covered in the dragon's blood. Even rocks have given way and have moved or split. But there is not a sign of the dragon itself.

Bilbo breathes heavily from his endless run, the oncoming winter making his exhales evaporate.

Dragon corpses don't just evaporate, however. Smaug must have changed its form, something that only Bilbo knows it is capable of doing. The hobbit finds hope growing in his chest as he takes a better look at his surrounding while wiping the sweat on his brow onto his sleeve.

No one would just assume a dragon has died. Someone would be coming to ensure the slaughter, which would make it wise for Smaug to go into hiding in a less noticeable form. And Thorin, he remembered, had said something about caves and them seldom being unoccupied.

'_Right then_,' Bilbo braces himself, setting his jaw and straightening his back.

* * *

Smaug lies in a small cavern of dirt and rock. It doesn't have its wings or tail, only a small fraction of its body consisting of the scales of a dragon. It looks more human now that it had ever looked before, pale and gasping for air as it lies on its makeshift nest without clothing of any kind or a stopping to the bleeding on its chest.

Smaug looks fragile. It looks like it is dying.

"Have you come to immortalize your name, Master Luckwearing Dragon Slayer?" It asks with a wheezy breath when Bilbo finds it. Smaug seems calm despite its nearing end, and does nothing when Bilbo kneels beside it.

"I'm not after immortality," the hobbit tells it quietly, observing the black arrow still stuck on its chest.

"Then why have you come?" Smaug questions, staring at Bilbo as he digs into the backpack he had pillaged on his way there.

"I don't know," Bilbo answers, eyeing ointments and bandages, thinking that his patient is a dragon and how he really isn't a healer.

"Why are you here?" Smaug repeats. "What do you wish to gain from this?"

"I don't know!" Bilbo cries, suddenly feeling so useless in his lack of knowledge that he just does whatever there is to do and rips the arrow straight off the dragon's chest in one quick motion. Smaug lets out an indescribable sound that would be sure to draw attention had someone been near enough to hear it, but Bilbo just lets it scream as he presses a cloth down on the wound as hard as he can.

"I don't know why I'm here, and I have no idea what I'm doing," he half sobs as Smaug writhes underneath him. "I'm just a hobbit and I wish I was back at home, at Bag End where I belong."

"A hobbit?" The dragon takes interest even through the pain. "Is that what you are? A hobbit."

"Yes," Bilbo laughs weakly despite his hands getting coloured with the dragon's blood.

"I don't think your methods of healing are doing much for me, Master Hobbit." The dragon sounds unconcerned, as if it wasn't its life that was on the line.

"I have some ointments if those would be of-" Bilbo starts, feeling panic rise in him all over again.

"No. My magic is what is keeping me alive, though it is draining away from me. You can imagine why."

The truth makes Bilbo lean backwards, leaving his hands unhelpful and red as they dangle by his side.

"And I see no reason to fight for my life. You see, I will never again have the power to reclaim my treasure. What is there left for me to do?"

"I can't believe you! Man, dwarf or dragon, the ruin of you all will come from your own lust for power and gold! Fine then, please consider this: knowledge can be considered as power if you know how to use it right, and you already are knowledgeable. Why not hoard information which cannot be taken from you even in death?"

The dragon looks amazed, then amused as it slowly rises to sit in front of the hobbit who has a hard time looking at it in the eye. The rest of the dragon scales merge into human skin and the bleeding comes to a slow end.

"But what of the gold? A need to be in possession of a great treasure is in my nature," the dragon says as it stares down at Bilbo whose ears turn red, because he has read tales of the charisma of these creatures, and he feels awfully like he's being driven into a web from which he cannot escape.

"I have no treasure to offer you," says Bilbo, gaze still firmly locked on the ground.

When the dragon doesn't say anything but remains where it is, in front of him and staring on with much more patience than Bilbo has, the hobbit finally gives in to the urges to have his peek. And he sees a pair of ash-grey eyes staring at him with such an unbearable expression that he finds himself almost shouting, "Yes, alright! _Fine_!"

"You offer it to me?" The dragon asks, both surprised delight and smugness in its voice.

"Yes," Bilbo nods weakly, embarrassed.

"Even while knowing what we dragons do with our treasure?" Smaug questions as it leans in closer.

"Yes," the hobbit sighs this time, closing his eyes as the dragon closes its arms around him.

"My golden hearted hobbit," comes a whisper into his ear, one that rattles his core and has his heart beat at a rapid pace.

And there, amidst rocks and dirt and blood, they form an unlikable and unbreakable bond. For a dragon will guard its treasure as long as it lives.

* * *

**End**

**A/N:** There now! Small omakes might follow.

And since you made it this far, the place to leave reviews in is not far from here. Feel free to leave a comment. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Warning:** SPOILERS, SPOILERS, SPOILERS!

**A/N:** Here's a small following. I don't know. This pairing is just too cute. ;u; I also thank you for all the reviews! And would like to point out that I spared the lives of a couple of dwarves in this fiction for my poor heart's sake.

Read on!

* * *

Somehow, life wins at the end. The dwarves have their mountain, and Bilbo has to keep himself busy running between it and the small cavern in the woods. Invisible and unheard he pilfers goods for eating and keeping warm to aid a recovering dragon (well, Smaug is more human in looks now, but still definitely a dragon if judged by behaviour).

Bilbo does this until Smaug declares to be dying again, wailing loudly about the onslaught of boredom that is now its life. There is only so much patience to withstand so much annoyance, and in the end, Bilbo watches with a crease on his brow as Smaug pulls on a dark coat of some poor man who now has to make do without it.

"Somehow this feels like a terrible mistake already," he says more to himself than to any pair of ears that might be listening. Smaug certainly does a poor job of listening at times.

"Now then, my little hobbit. Where should we be heading to?" The dragon asks as it takes its first step out of the cave in a few days.

"I'm not sure," Bilbo confesses. Though having been thinking about it for days, the hobbit still had little to no idea how to commence now that his brain allowed room for logical thinking. Home was his first desire, but bringing a dragon there would not be very decent, now would it? Not for the suspicious hobbits or the bored dragon. Secondly, he yearned to reveal his wellbeing to Gandalf and the dwarves, having heard them search for him on the battlefields in vain. What stopped him from doing so was the thought that Gandalf would immediately recognise his association with the dragon and make sure that bad things followed.

No, no, it all sounded so very dreadful in Bilbo's head that he'd rather have had the dragon heal its wounds a little bit longer if only to give him a little more time to think.

"We shall start with the wizard," says Smaug then, to answer for him. "He ought to be of use. If not, I should gather more strength and try to summon my wings. Flying should hasten our way."

"Our way to where?" Bilbo asks warily, almost fearing the answer.

Which turns out to be a simple smile of, "Home."

* * *

"I'm not sure about this," Bilbo frets as he struggles to keep up with Smaug's long strides. "They want your head on a golden platter. You are aware of this, yes?"

"Do not speak to me about gold," the dragon huffs in annoyance. "And I am aware of the fact, just like I am aware how ridiculously human I look at the moment and shall look for every moment till my death."

"Yet you are very much a dragon in my eyes." The words leave the hobbits mouth as a peeved mutter. "So don't do any of that stuff you dragons are infamous for. Like attacking the dwarves to get back your treasure. Or, I don't know, set anyone on fire by breathing on them."

More amused than offended, Smaug offers him a look over its shoulder. "I am neither strong nor unintelligent enough to try either. Do not fret my dear hobbit. I shall accept my defeat and hail the dwarves while taking care nothing unmeant catches on fire."

"I find little consolation in your words."

"I promise to behave most amiably," the dragon grins, and both of them know that while Smaug might be keeping its word, its views on what passes for amiable might be a bit lacking.

* * *

Bilbo is wrong. Smaug does not lack on amiableness. It doesn't even know what the word means.

"Father issues," the dragon says, eyeing Thorin up and down as they reach the root of the mountain and find a fraction of the company who set on an adventure from Bag End.

"And what's this? A forbidden romance," it continues, sniffing a bit as it looks to the side as if to keep from revealing of whom it spoke, but by the identically devastated looks on the faces of Fili and Kili, it is not even up for guessing.

The party stands still, seemingly frozen in mid motion, for the dwarves had been glad to find the hobbit alive and well, and mad about his betrayal, but ready to forgive because all had turned for the better. And then there was this complete stranger saying buried truths about them in the open daylight before anyone else had had the opportunity to open a conversation.

Bilbo himself stands in shock for a while, then smacking the damned dragon on its thigh, hissing, "S-" before realising that he can't really call the dragon by its name in front of the dwarves, now can he?

"Not amiable?" Smaug looks down at him and asks.

"Very not amiable," Bilbo confirms through gritted teeth.

The dwarves take this time to recover from their general confusion, deciding to completely ignore the rude man that has accompanied their burglar as they crowd the hobbit and give him all the hugs and smiles he deserves.

Bilbo in turn has little time to enjoy the forgiveness he is being given, because soon he is lifted beyond the reach of dwarves as Smaug hold him high in the air like some bully.

"You already have your mountain," it hisses. "You cannot have him as well."

And then the rude man is walking away, taking the hobbit with him as Bilbo struggles a bit while shouting something along the lines of, "sorry," and, "letters," and, "explain."

The dwarves don't know what to think. Then again, Bilbo Baggins has always been a bit strange in their eyes, so it is with a mere shrug that they continue to rebuild their kingdom.

* * *

They find Gandalf next, who in all his wisdom does not notice any vices in Smaug other than its bright mind and sharp tongue.

"Saved your life as well, did he?" Gandalf asks while looking between Bilbo and the dragon with a twinkle in his eye. "Our dear hobbit seems to be in the habit of doing that."

A small blush of modesty plays on the hobbit's cheeks.

"Now then, if you are to follow us all the way to Hobbiton then let us exchange names at least," demands the wizard while looking at the dragon who in turn looks at the hobbit.

And all Bilbo has at the tip of his tongue is the actual name that he cannot give, the S of it already hissing from his lips as he desperately looks at his companion, at the pale face and the curly hair that he now has a habit of playing with.

"Sherlock," Bilbo finishes.

He receives queer looks from both of them, but there is also a silent acceptance and the matter is deemed resolved.

* * *

Home had been in chaos upon their arrival. Never in his life had Bilbo thought that he would be thought dead and that his house would be in trouble while he was away. Smaug had done a wonderful job scaring away the hobbits trying to buy his stuff, though, and for that at least Bilbo could be grateful.

But now the dragon had disappeared somewhere, and Bilbo sighs heavily as he sets out to make a nice meal to help him recover from the long journey home.

The hobbit was about half finished in his meal making when the dragon reappeared in his hole.

"Your relative had these hidden in her pockets," Smaug says to him a bit absentmindedly, pupils dialated as it holds Bilbo's entire silver cutlery to its chest as if holding the most precious thing in the world. "I made her give them back."

"_Made_ her..?" Bilbo asks a bit unsurely.

"Nothing drastic," says the dragon while rolling its eyes at him. "Though she might have cried a little."

"Right," Bilbo hesitates to accept the answer. "Just- go put them back into the drawers if you would."

With that, the hobbit goes off to finish his meal.

* * *

"What is this?" Bilbo asks as he stands at the doorway of his bedroom.

Smaug lies on his bed, surrounded by all of his silverware and the gold which they had retrieved from the troll cave.

"A nest," it replies.

"A nest," Bilbo repeats blankly. "But of course it is."

He sighs and turns around.

"Where are you going?" Smaug asks him, rising to sit on the bed as it sees Bilbo retreat.

"I'm too tired to argue right now. You can have your nest and I'll sleep in one of the guestrooms tonight. We can resolve the matter of claiming the bedrooms of other's later."

And at the same time as Bilbo tries to take his leave, Smaug stand up, grabs the hobbit and brings him back to bed with it.

"It is hardly a nest if you are not in it," the dragon murmurs into Bilbo's hair, swelling the poor hobbit's heart and eventually lulling him to sleep with the warmness of the embrace.

* * *

They travel quite a lot. Not enough to allow Bilbo's relatives to think him dead, though. They visit the cities of men and other kindly folk, learning their lore and behaviour and other such things that Smaug seems to be utterly fascinated by.

Fascinated by too much, perhaps.

"You have an elf for a lover," the dragon says to a man who looks at it with surprise. "Surprising considering you are but a mere mortal. Ah, but you are not, are you? A Dúnedain. Hmm, not that it makes that much of a difference."

The man looks taken aback, hand unconsciously nearing the sword at his belt as Smaug keeps on going, eyes squinted in cruel amusement as it delivers the final blow. "Not king yet."

Bilbo groans, folding the letter he had been writing to his nephew, thinking it had to be finished later. After all, those two needed to be saved from one another.

* * *

_My Dear Frodo._

_You asked me once if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures. While I can honestly say that I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it._

_Concerning the sole man who lives in our Shire, and yes, I do mean Sherlock by that. He was not always as he is now, and while at times I despair that I have created a monster out of him, it gives me a little consolation to think that he was one to begin with._

* * *

Crashes and smashes can be heard from the tavern as Smaug -or no, _Sherlock_ now- picks fights quite unwittingly.

"I told you to behave!" Bilbo hollers while rushing to aid.

And poor old him does it with an idiotic grin.

* * *

**END**

**A/N: **Does Sherlock actually mean 'fair haired' or is that just some fanfic translation? I have no idea, but used it as an idea despite that. Also, "Not king yet" is a brilliant quote from a fanfic I read yeeeaaarrrsss ago, I think.

Thank you for reading. Feedback is very muchly valued. :)


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